


The Sacrifice

by orphan_account



Category: Adam Levine (Musician), Blake Shelton (Musician), The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: M/M, The Shevine Project, Tumblr Request Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 21:36:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4321632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake is the chief sacraficer for the temple and Adam is the man who makes the healing herbs. What happens when a special sacrafice is necessary to save the tribe from a massive drought? Falling asleep with the History Channel on is prone to give a man epic nightmares, that's what. (Partial Atzec Historical AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> This story originally appeared as "Azteca", written by LiterallyMare. I am now reposting it under the name of MimiRedCrow, after my stories were orphaned without my consent in May of 2014. If you have any questions or concerns about this, feel free to contact me with them. I am very thankful to AO3 for letting me repost and reclaim the stories I wrote and repost them under new titles.

Blake stretched out on the couch and flicked around the channels. It was nice to be back in Oklahoma, even better to be back at home with Adam in tow. It was taking a little time for the LA native rock star to appreciate the country life, but he had to admit the change in pace was nice. Even if it meant not having many places to go, especially on a week night. 

Currently Adam was upstairs in the shower, washing off a day of dust and sweat. Blake had introduced him to the process of planting corn most of the day, and while the other man wasn't exactly enthusiastic about it, he was catching on pretty quickly. At this point, they were just glad to be together. As long as they were together, anything could be fun and exciting. That was part of what kept them both coming back for season after season of The Voice before their feelings for each other had come out. 

Now it was that delicate dance of blending their off show lives together as much as they could with the demands of their careers. They kept their personal lives fairly close to their chest, not wanting to come out and confirm what more and more people were beginning to suspect. Mostly out of fear for Blake's career. Rock stars had a lot more leeway than a country singer when it came to sexuality. 

Blake chuckled a little as he started to channel surf, wondering what the world would think to know he'd been the one to take that first step from flirting to an actual physical relationship. And he had been the one to ask for a commitment. That would really stand people on their heads, since they probably would think Adam persued him and wore him down. 

Funny how those things work, he thought to himself. Five years ago he never would've believed he would fall in love with another man and start a relationship that could make him lose everything else. But now he couldn't picture life any other way. And despite a little anxiety here and there about the impact to his career the relationship would have when it inevitably did come out, he was happier than he'd ever been in life. Or in love. 

He wished he could be happier with TV tonight, but there was no football, no NASCAR, no Golden Girls reruns and he didn't want to suffer through a House Hunters marathon. Blake thought the people on that show were a special kind of stupid. Why else wouldn't they realize if you didn't like the color of a room you could just go down to Wally Mart, buy a few gallons of paint and change it? 

Finally he settled on the History channel. Adam was slowly helping him expand his horizons, and this was one of the good things he'd discovered thanks to his boyfriend. All of this history and nature stuff was pretty cool. Too bad he couldn't say the same for sushi, which Blake's system had immediately rejected and reminded him where he came from people actually cooked their food first by putting him on the bathroom floor all night. 

At least now Adam decided to stop broaden Blake's horizons too much in the food department, though he'd noticed a lot more fruits and veggies finding their way into the fridge lately. That much Blake could deal with, especially in the name of love. And that green tea stuff was pretty good when you put honey in it.

On the TV, they were talking about the rites of human sacrafice in the old Aztec empire. Geography had never been Blake's strong suit, hell he could barely find his way around LA by himself, but he could appreciate the beauty of the grey stoned temples rising towards the sky. The human sacrafice thing was pretty intense, though....

 

....His father had been in charge of sacrafices, and his father before him. The job was passed down from father to son for generations, and two years ago it had become his turn to do the ritual. Sometimes the pledges begged and pleaded for their lives until the very moment the knife slit their throats. Other times they were resigned to their fate, knowing their blood was being spilt to save their people. Either way, he had to remain composed or the sacrafice wouldn't appease the gods. 

When he woke up that morning, he left his hut near the temple and the made the walk he did every morning after the first meal. The small hut was at the edge of the forest. The man who lived there was the son of a witch doctor and he made herbal remedies for the tribe. 

He didn't have to knock on the doorway of the hut, he was always welcome here. When he saw the man with his black hair and lean, muscluar frame he felt a shiver of happiness go through him. He had an important role in the tribe, a wife from a good family, and the hope of children someday to pass his sacred duties onto the first born son, but this was where he truly belonged.

The other man rose from where he was sitting on the floor grinding herbs, a smile crossing his face. He crossed the small space of the hut and pulled the curtain across the door for privacy. Then he wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling their bodies close together as their mouths met. 

The tribe was strictly against two men having relations with each other in the way they would with women. That didn't change the way he felt about the black haired man. That was how he always spoke of him in his mind, because speaking names was considered a sacred thing. Names were rarely used. His black haired, beautiful eyed lover. 

"They said there was a new sacrafice happening at sunset." The younger man asked as they laid together beside the fire after making love. "The drought has been going on for a long time."

"Only a special sacrafice will end it." He agreed softly, running his hand over the other man's smooth, bare back. "The entire fate of the village rests on this, I'm afraid."

"I'm glad I don't have to be there." His lover laid his head against his shoulder and took a deep breath. "Aren't you afraid someday it might be someone close to you?"

"I worry it will be my wife, my parents...but I know the sacrafices will happen." He frowned and closed his eyes a moment. "They would give their lives to save our people. I was raised that someday it would be my job to take them to keep us all alive."

"And if it was me?" 

His eyes opened and he bent to kiss the other man's black hair. "It will never be you. Your healing herbs are too valuable." 

The other man simply smiled and lifted his head to look at him. "I love you." One of his hands, always slightly stained from one herb or another, reached up to stroke his cheek lovingly. "Don't ever forget that. No matter what." 

He felt a lump rising of emotion rising in his throat, taking the hand stroking his face in one of his own much larger ones and kissing the back of it. He loved his wife, loved his family, but those loves were dwarfed by the love he felt for this man. This was the ultimate love for him, the precious kind that could only happen once in a lifetime. Or perhaps many lifetimes, if the tribal teachings were right. 

"I love you too." He whispered back and swallowed hard. "But everything is going to be alright. The rain will come, we'll have food for winter. You'll go on making the herbs and I'll go on making the sacrafices until we're old men who have sons to teach our trades."

The man with the black hair did not speak again and he was sure his lover had gone to sleep. He laid there for a long time just holding his lithe body close to his. He was shaken by the words he'd spoken, as if he anticipated something bad was about to happen. 

Eventually, around the time of the noon meal, they had to stir and dress again. He kissed his lover goodbye and went to the temple to prepare the altar for the sacrafice and say the prayers necessary. There were hours of prayers before the sacrafice could be brought into the temple. Sometimes it was tedious, and he couldn't dispell the feeling of unease, even though he knew he needed to concentrate and appeal to the gods to accept the sacrafice.

The day seemed to drag by, but thankfully they were in the time of the waning sun and the day was not as long as it could have been. As the sun hovered just above the horizon, he stood before the altar and sharpened the ritual knife that would be used to slit the throat of the sacrafice. It would be fast, the pain brief and hopefully the final thoughts would be that their life had ended so their people would continue to survive.

Once the sun sunk below the horizon, he stood at the altar and waited for the sacrafice to be lead into the room. There were no sounds of struggle. Given the severity of the drought, it didn't surprise him. They needed rain desperately or they would run out of food halfway through winter. The old and the very young were always the first to die off in such times, and sickness often spread through the village. 

The sacrafice was always lead into the altar room by on e of the temple guards, leading the person by a rope attached to his or her bound hands. On either side of the sacrafice would be more guards with spears, and two more bringing up the rear. There was no escape. 

When he saw who was being lead into the room, it was everything he could do from wailing with grief. Suddenly the words his lover had spoken that morning made sense. Because the temple guards were leading in a black haired man, the one who made healing herbs for their tribe. 

The man was lead before him and made to kneel in front of the altar. They always gave them a last chance to say something. Instead of speaking, though, the man raised his beautiful hazel eyes for the last time and gave him a small, loving smile. 

"Don't ever forget." He whispered so lowly he was almost mouthing the words. 

It was that moment he knew that he was not going to be able to fulfill the duties that had been passed down from generation to generation, first born son to first born son in his family. He wouldn't have a first born son to teach the duties to either. Tonight there were going to be two sacrafices.

"Never." He mouthed back and raised the knife. But instead of cutting the other man's throat, he drew the blade across his wrists. The pain was hot and he knew the death would take much longer. But hopefully not so long he would have to see the love of his life die before his eyes. 

He fell to his knees and dropped the knife, his life's blood dripping onto the stone floor and slipping into the cracks. Tears ran down his face. He lifted his head and looked at his lover for the last time, seeing the tears in the other man's eyes as well. It wasn't supposed to end like this, but at least it would end with them together. 

One of the temple guards grabbed the knife from the floor, not worrying that the chief sacraficer was bleeding to death before their eyes. No matter what, the person who had been choosen to be given to the gods that night had to be delivered, or else the tribe would suffer. 

He felt his body shiver, getting lightheaded. The world tilted and he found himself on his side, watching as the guard pulled the black haired man's head back. And with all his strength left, he broke the last taboo and cried out the man's name as loudly as he could manage. 

"ADAM!"...

..."Whoa there!" A voice replied as the weight of a body crushed down on top of Blake. 

He jolted awake, but he couldn't move very far. His eyes popped open and he was sure he felt his heart stop when he saw Adam laying on his lap, a bemused smile on his beautiful face. 

"You...you're okay..." Blake stammered, feeling very disoriented.

"Yeah, but are you?" Adam sat up and looked into Blake's eyes. "You were having a bad dream when I came out here. When I got on the couch, you yelled at me, but I don't think you were awake yet."

Blake closed his eyes a moment, the final moments of his dream coming to him and making him shiver. The thought of losing his cocky, smart ass rock star every bit as oppressive and painful as it had been in that dream world. 

"No, I wasn't." He opened his eyes and pulled Adam into an almost fierce, desperate kiss. 

Adam returned the kiss with enthusiasm, then pulled back and looked at Blake apprasingly. "You sure you're okay?"

"Well, I'm not going to fall asleep again watching the History Channel." He smiled a little and nodded. "But I'm okay." 

He realized in that moment, as long as Adam was with him, he would always be okay. Even when everything eventually came to light, as all secrets must inevitably, he would be okay as long as they were together. Even if it meant the end of his career, the end of everything he knew, somehow it would work out. 

Reaching out, he traced his fingers lightly over Adam's face, his smile growing. "I'm alright now. More than alright, actually. Let's go to bed?" 

"Okay," Adam kissed him softly. "But I don't think I should let you go to sleep until we're sure you're done with nightmares for the night."

Blake laughed as he scooped Adam up into his arms and stood, the sound echoing in the big house. "Yes, I think you better do that."


End file.
